


Angels Fall

by Aelwyn



Series: Vignettes of Rose and the Doctor [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bad Wolf is an actual wolf, Eighth Doctor is the War Doctor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, and it was definitely angsty, except that I loved the dynamic, not much else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn
Summary: He could see the approaching planet on the bridge when he was there, can now feel the moment the nose crashes into the surface of the murky reddish-brown planet below at the back of the ship. He thinks this is it, that this is how he dies. Oh, well. He’s lived a long life, and a part of him is glad he won’t have to live through what the War will turn the universe into. He and Cass go flying at the impact on their respective sides of the deadlocked door, beams and paneling ripped from the chassis of the ship to become deadly blunt trauma projectiles, and he sees the approaching fireball that is roaring down the corridors. He expects heat, searing pain, then blackness and release.The song of Time, the mournful call of wild wolves, and shining golden light rush to meet him instead moments before something hits the side of his head and he blacks out.





	Angels Fall

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE BBC, DOCTOR WHO, AND ANY OTHER KNOWN AFFILIATES.

_“I’m no angel, I’m just me._

_But I will love you endlessly.”_

_-Endlessly, The Cab_

_He could see the approaching planet on the bridge when he was there, can now feel the moment the nose crashes into the surface of the murky reddish-brown planet below at the back of the ship. He thinks this is it, that this is how he dies. Oh, well. He’s lived a long life, and a part of him is glad he won’t have to live through what the War will turn the universe into. He and Cass go flying at the impact on their respective sides of the deadlocked door, beams and paneling ripped from the chassis of the ship to become deadly blunt trauma projectiles, and he sees the approaching fireball that is roaring down the corridors. He expects heat, searing pain, then blackness and release. _

_The song of Time, the mournful call of wild wolves, and shining golden light rush to meet him instead moments before something hits the side of his head and he blacks out._

~§§~

The Doctor came to in a smoke-scented room, his back resting against something stonelike due to its rough and unyielding texture he guessed, and a soft warmth pressed solidly against his left leg. He glanced to the side, curious, and abruptly stopped breathing in both panic and wonder at the creature before him.

A wolf with golden fur and a creamy, platinum chest and underbelly is lying with its spine curved into his thigh. It was easily just as big as he was and nothing like anything he’d ever seen before. Its flank rose and fell in an even, deep rhythm that usually denoted sleep and it appeared to be facing the only entrance or exit into the cave-like room, lying between him and it with its massive head pointed straight at it. 

The big question was, was it guarding him as a sentient creature or as its next meal. 

The Doctor went to stand, gently easing himself away from the creature, only to cry out slightly in pain as it seemed that there wasn’t a single part of his body that hadn’t been injured in some small way. 

At once the breathing pattern of the wolf shifted and he froze in place; his breathing was erratic and hitched in pain and he couldn’t stop himself from panting heavily despite his best efforts to engage his respiratory bypass. 

Then, two eyes opened and he suddenly had no problem with not breathing because they were so stupefying they took his breath away. 

Both shone bright golden-white, burning like a thousand suns, and the longer he stared into them the more he got the idea that he was looking into Time itself. The Vortex rested in the impossible creature’s eyes and the Doctor couldn’t find the understanding required to know why it wanted anything to do with him. 

Miraculously, there didn’t appear to be any malicious intent. Rather, concern. Concern and an intelligence that was at once wrapped in eternity yet tied to the present by ephemeral influence. Oh, and its fur appeared to be glowing ever so faintly that unless one were in a dark room (as they currently were) it would be easy to miss. 

The wolf continued regarding him for a few moments before it sat up and began gently licking at a rather prominent gash on the side of his forehead. The Doctor gasped, every muscle in his pain-racked body tensing, before a soothing sort of energy seemed to seep through the injury and he collapsed back against the stone whatever it was with a relieved sigh. After a few moments the wolf sat back on its haunches and he hesitated before stretching out his hand to scratch it behind one of its ears. 

The fur was soft there, so soft he wished there were more of it to sink his hand into, and the creature tilted its head slightly so that he had better access. It made a soft whimpering noise of pleasure, large tail sweeping lazily back and forth across the dirt and dust-covered stone floor. It then sniffed his hand and licked at the numerous cuts on it and he watched, fascinated, as the cuts seemed to glow softly with golden Artron energy before healing and fading with nary a scar to show they had ever existed.

“What exactly are you, Hmm?” He murmured. The wolf nuzzled his hand and then shifted to lay down with its massive head in his lap, so he absently pet it as he worked through his thoughts. “I guess the more immediate question is what gender are you? I don’t want to just keep saying ‘it’ all the time. Sounds rather demeaning. So, what then? Boy?” The wolf remained silent. “Girl?” He smiled at the small yip he got in response and ruffled the thick, warm golden fur between her ears. 

“Thanks girl,” he sighed. She was warm, he was oh so tired, and for obvious reasons he felt safe so long as she was there. He let himself slip into a small healing coma and drifted off into sleep for a few hours. When he woke up it was to a much clearer mind, the feeling of most of his aches and pains having been mostly or completely resolved (and he had no doubt that he owed much of that to the apparently-magical healing properties of his new lupine companion), and the sound of urgent whispering. 

“We should go in now,” a voice hissed.

“Are you mad, Daerlae?” Another, more seasoned voice said calmly back. “That creature would devour you whole.”

“I can hear you you know,” the Doctor called irritably, trying hard not to show any of his amusement as the wolf sat up beside him and fixed an intent gaze on the entry. A small group of robed women approached cautiously, one more senior and familiar at the front. 

“Ah, the Sisterhood of Karn. And it was Ohila, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed it was, Doctor,” Ohila answered promptly, a wary eye on the wolf. “Are you... much recovered?”

“Yes, thank you for asking.” A sudden, sick thought occurred to him. “Cass?” 

“If you mean the young woman we pulled from the wreckage, she was not saved in the same miraculous way you were,” the Sister said evenly but not unkindly. Her head tilted slightly to the side. “Was she a companion?”

“No. Someone who I tried to save that wanted nothing to do with me because of my species,” the Doctor muttered bitterly. The wolf whined and licked the side of his face before snuggling under the arm closest to her in comfort. “All she wanted to do was see the universe.”

“She didn’t miss much. There’s not all that good an amount of it left untouched to see.” 

“...True,” he murmured dejectedly. He regarded the woman with tired interest. “What do you want of me?”

“To fight,” she said simply. The wolf rose to her paws, the hackles stiff and raised, as she bared a rather impressive set of pearly white fangs. The Doctor was left scrambling to try and hold her back as Ohila flinched away.

“Easy girl, easy,” he soothed, knowing there was really nothing for it if the wolf decided to attack as he was already being dragged across the floor. 

“What is that _thing!?_” Ohila rasped, grabbing a torch and waving it about like a warding spell against evil spirits. 

“Yes, _that _will help defuse the situation,” the Doctor muttered sarcastically as his protector growled. “Might I suggest that you let us leave? She seems a little... tense.” 

“By all means Doctor, go!” The Sister snapped. “And take your pet with you!” 

“No need to be rude,” he retorted, then yelped when the wolf arched her neck and knocked him squarely to sit astride her back with her head before taking off. He was left to bury his face in her fur and grip her ruff as tightly as possible as the world flew by and hope for the best. 

After what seemed like seconds they were weaving their way through the smoking wreckage of the crashed ship. He slid off her back unsteadily and leaned against her as he got his bearings, disoriented by the unexpected ride. The TARDIS stood, unscathed, in the midst of it all with the soft light shining out of her windows and lamp like a warm beacon guiding him home, and he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Before he could step inside, however, the wolf beat him to it and he simply stared at his rather unconventional houseguest for a few moments on the stoop before shaking his head and following after. 

“Coming with me then?” The Doctor asked dryly. The wolf ‘boofed’ at him before sinking down into a comfortable position by his armchair on the floor and staring up at him with her glowing white-gold eyes. “Right then. Can’t exactly argue with you anyway, can I?” He huffed in amusement as the stupendous creature merely flicked an ear and set her tail wagging in a lazy, gentle manner. “Cheek.” She tilted her head to one side and he swore she was grinning. 

As he set the controls to take them into the Time Vortex he let himself relax, the reality of all that had happened resurfacing now that he was no longer in danger. His breath left his body in a shaky exhale and he watched as fine tremors coursed through his hands before flipping some switches at random and mentally asking his ship to take him somewhere isolated, somewhere safe. The rotor rose up and down in the vast, empty gothic room before stilling and he opened the door onto empty space. 

The atmospheric shell had been extended to make this possible and he sat on the edge of the door trim, legs dangling out into space, as he simply took in the stars of uncharted void. A few moments later the startlingly soft tread of his newest companion stopped beside him and he got a good, up close and personal look at her massive paws as she laid down beside him and pressed against his side, letting the lower half of her forelegs dangle over the edge of the trim as well. 

“I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for you,” the Doctor murmured absently as he scratched behind one of her ears. The soft thump of her tail hitting the floor as it wagged made it possible to form a weak smile. “Thank you. I have no idea who or what you are, but thank you.” 

A few moments of silence stretched on before he pointed with his free hand at a cluster of stars on their right, explaining galaxies and planets and sunsets and waterfalls. The wolf listened quietly, as such creatures must, but the Doctor got the impression that she understood every word he was saying regardless.

The day had been draining, both emotionally and physically, and the Doctor eyed himself critically in the mirror of his walk-in in his bedroom with a frown. His green velvet jacket was useless now. One of the arms was torn at the shoulder seam, hanging off almost entirely; burns and rips were everywhere and the cuffs were an unsalvageable mess. His knee-high leather hunting boots were scuffed to the point of being tanned hamburger and one of the soles was peeling off. His trousers were smoke-stained and the material hadn’t been particularly durable so those were also a mess of fine tears, and his waistcoat didn’t bear thinking about. His oxford was in need of an entirely new collar to be sewn on, the material too thin to have any real protection without the waistcoat, and his cravat... well, silk didn’t tend to do well with smoke or fire. The entire thing was a scrap. 

Sighing, he undressed and stepped into the en-suite to shower. He knew the clothes would be gone courtesy of the TARDIS when he returned, so no worries there. The water was hot and soothing to sore muscles, and the Doctor just stood under the head for a long time trying to wash his troubles away before the TARDIS purposefully began cooling the water to alert him to the fact that she thought it was time he got out. 

He toweled dry and stepped back into his room, not paying attention, and as he turned around he let out a surprised shout. The wolf was laying on his bed, patiently waiting for his return, and despite the creature not being remotely humanoid he felt the immediate need to cover himself up under her intense stare. So they just stood there, at an impasse, he in nothing but a towel and she dominating a large section of his bed as she stretched luxuriously and assumed a sort of Sphinx pose. 

Eyeing his latest (and by far oddest) companion warily the Doctor retreated into his walk-in to find a new outfit. His old one wouldn’t cut it and he was glad the TARDIS had removed the unhappy reminders from his personal wardrobe.

He sifted through new items, looking for something new, and hummed thoughtfully as he fingered the cloth. All of it was heavier, more durable, and better for the warzones he had frequented recently. He settled on a simple tan cotton button-up dress shirt, a belt rather than suspenders (which felt odd seeing as he had preferred suspenders his entire life), and dark grey corduroy slacks that looked neither white collar nor blue collar but somehow in between. The TARDIS had set out a new pair of knee-high leather hunting boots; they were steel-tipped in the toes and the soles were thicker in rubber. The leather, rather than being polished and more for show, was tanned dull and treated a specific way to hold up better to the elements. 

Included with this ensemble were a bandolier to wear attached to and matching his belt that had a quick-access holster for his Sonic Screwdriver (he kissed the wall for that) and a small sheath that housed a wickedly sharp but decently-sized hunting knife, which was a defensive weapon rather than an offensive one (he kissed the wall again). There was also a brand new black leather jacket; it gleamed dully in the light and was nondescript yet still a fashion statement, but it would take some getting used to. 

The Doctor donned this new outfit feeling like he’d shed an old skin and feeling decidedly odd in the unfamiliar clothes. He grimaced, rubbing at his exposed neck but not particularly wanting any neckwear that could get caught on anything. Tugging on overly-long and knotted hair he moved back into the en-suite and picked up the shears, determinedly giving himself a thorough trim. When he was finished the shoulder-length chestnut locks curled only to a point just past the tips of his ears, and he wondered why he hadn’t done that ages ago. It was far more comfortable and took far less upkeep. He rubbed at the stubble on his face and decided he liked it at only a few days’ growth. Never a beard, never that, but some stubble looked... decent. It properly showed externally how emotionally tired he was internally, so it served its purpose. 

When he returned to his bedroom he saw that the wolf was no longer on his bed and looked around warily, brow furrowing when he spotted the tip of her tail waving about in the door of his walk-in.

“What are you doing in there?” He asked a tad sharply. He received a whimper in response and frowned as she reappeared with a piece of long blue-grey cloth dangling from her mouth. She dropped it at his feet and wagged her tail before jumping back up on his bed and laying down. He glanced from the cloth to the wolf and back again before sighing and picking it up, pausing when he felt the soft cashmere material of what he soon discovered was a short but functional scarf. He put it on, winding it about his neck, and raised an eyebrow at the creature occupying his bed.

“How did you know?” He murmured. It felt right. It covered his exposed neck and was soft, delicate almost though the weave made it durable, and it was a piece of what he’d discarded that he found comforting rather than painful. “Thank you.” The wolf yipped at him before resting her head on her paws and closing her eyes. “No, you can’t sleep here. This is my bed, my room. Find somewhere else.” In response she merely shifted onto her side, opening up the other half of the bed, and he sighed in defeat. It wasn’t as if he could tell something like that to move. 

~§§~

It was two months later that he was finally able to give her a name. Romana had summoned him back to Gallifrey and he’d landed in the Presidential Palace before realizing that he needed some time before he could face her. So he moved a few coordinates and materialized in the vast red hills of his childhood. 

The TARDIS was parked on the top of a mound underneath a small copse of silver cadonwood trees and the view he was greeted with as he exited was a sea of waving scarlet grass dotted everywhere with clumps of blooming arkytior flowers. He hadn’t realized it was the season...

Luna, as he had taken to calling her (interchangeably with a simple ‘Wolf,’ neither of which he particularly liked for a potential name), darted out after him and gave a happy bark before springing down the side of the hill and rolling into a large clump of the white rose-like flowers. He had to laugh as she breathed in deeply through her nose and sneezed when some of the petals went up her nostrils, but this didn’t seem to deter her from doing it again. She was smiling, as far as he was concerned; her mouth was open wide, the corners turned upward, and she had closed her eyes as she made a high-pitched yipping sound. She rolled in the flowers, nuzzling them, smelling them, and the Doctor sighed in fond exasperation as he walked more slowly toward the flowers. He sat in the middle of the field and watched her play.

“Like these, do you?” He asked, then laughed as he got another happy bark in response. She suddenly sprang to her feet, head darting down toward a large blossom, and he watched in fascination as she plucked it with her teeth and padded over to drop it untarnished in his lap. “Is this for me?” 

Wolf yipped at him before dropping her front legs down and wiggling her bum in the air while her tail whipped back and forth like a golden flag. He beamed at her and made a show of tucking the flower into the curls of his hair. She then darted off, collecting smaller blooms by way of picking them and returning to drop them in her lap, and when he had a small pile she laid down in front of him and shoved her head into his lap expectantly. 

“You want me to braid them into your fur?” He asked uncertainly. Her tail wagged and he shrugged. “Okay then. You like these so much I should probably just call you Arkytior,” he muttered before pausing in his impromptu task and smiling. “Hey, I like that. Arkytior. What about you?” She ‘boofed’ and he smiled. “Excellent.” 

He sat there for a long while, in the fields of his childhood, just soaking in the soft sounds of nature and feeling the suns beat down on his person, before he checked his Time sense and sighed. He was going to be late if he didn’t leave now. 

“Come on Arkytior,” he murmured as he stood. Arkytior tilted her head at him but stood as well, walking directly at his side back to the TARDIS. She was never really ever farther away than that, he realized, unless they were safely on board the ship. That could be a problem.

Sure enough, she tried to follow him outside when he stepped out into the palace.

“You can’t come with me this time,” he explained, huffing as he tried to push her back in. She was heavy, strong, and stubborn. None of which boded well for his success, but with a little determination he was able to accomplish it. “Relax, girl. I’ll be back soon.” He closed the door with a bang, sighing in relief as he leaned against the dusty blue wood, only to wince when he heard scratching and whimpering on the other side. 

“Theta?” A voice called uncertainly. The Doctor abruptly stood and dusted himself off as the Chancellor rounded the corner.

“Braxiatel,” he greeted his elder brother with a nod. Brax arched an eyebrow curiously at the still-audible noise coming from his TARDIS but said nothing. 

“The Lady President Romana is waiting for you.” 

“Perish the thought,” he replied blithely. Brax rolled his eyes but waited to make sure the Doctor was following before walking back the way he had come. Neither noticed the lock disengaging as a large, creamy golden snout pushed the door open only to be followed by a magnificent head braided with white flowers. Arkytior regarded her surroundings curiously before whimpering and following after the Doctor. 

Brax kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as they walked, and eventually the Doctor sighed.

“Go ahead.”

“You look different from the last time I saw you,” he said quietly. The Doctor shrugged. 

“I needed a change.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks.” 

“Still staying out of the war?” Brax asked innocently.

“I go where needed,” the Doctor muttered tersely. “I will not fight, but I will help.”

“That’s a big difference from when you said, and I quote, ‘if you want to go to Hell that’s fine but don’t drag me down with you.’ Anything happen to alter that view?”

“I...” he sighed and his brother looked at him curiously. “I’ll explain when I talk to Romana.”

“Fair enough, Theta. I won’t pry.” 

“That’s a first,” The Doctor snorted. Brax _tsked_ in chiding response. 

They were coming up on the doors to the Lady President’s office now and they pushed through without preamble. Romana glanced up from her paperwork with a raised eyebrow and both brothers winced when they spotted Narvin sitting in an armchair in front of her desk obviously paused mid-conversation.

“By all means, please come in,” Romana remarked dryly. “It’s not as if you need to ask permission first before entering my private office.”

“I do so appreciate standing invitations of that caliber,” the Doctor retorted cheekily, coming to a stop with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Tell me, Lady President, why it was requested I be here?” 

“We need your expertise on dealing with humans,” Narvin muttered sourly. “For the record, this wasn’t my idea.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m here because you’re already wrong about your approach,” the Doctor said as he sat in the other available chair and folded one leg over the other. His expression was entirely serious (something that his brother and friend were both relieved over) and his countenance lecturial as he leaned slightly toward Narvin, who looked affronted but interested.

“Oh, how so?” 

“You don’t ‘deal with’ humans. You negotiate with them. They’re egocentric, have an inflated opinion of themselves, and are stubborn about getting what they want.” The Doctor smirked. “In short, they’re just like us.” Romana snickered softly as Narvin tried to decide whether it was worth being offended or not. Brax rolled his eyes.

“They also base things on appearance,” he elaborated. “We look like them, which puts them of the opinion that we are equals even if that is not the case.” 

“Yes. I recommend treating them as equals to make things go more smoothly,” the Doctor suggested. “And note that I would never suggest this unless I was entirely convinced it was the only option, but a show of passive force would be a good idea to let them know Gallifrey is capable of protecting themselves or their allies.”

“Armed guard?” 

“Yes, but at ease.” Narvin opened his mouth to say something but never got the chance, because there was a scream in the hallway that had them all shooting to their feet. 

“What is that thing!?” Romana gasped, edging away from the door as Arkytior came padding in. She eyed the room with casual interest before spotting the Doctor and headed straight for him, rubbing her back against his legs before plopping down to sit by his feet. 

“I’m... not entirely sure,” the Doctor admitted as he absent-mindedly scratched behind her ears and sat back down in his seat. “She’s docile though, saved my life. I was on a ship crashing into the surface of Karn, and I thought I was done for. Next thing I know I’m sitting in a cave with this wolf curled up next to me and facing the entrance. She’s very protective, and I don’t know how she does it but she seems to be a conduit of the time Vortex.”

“A... sentient conduit?” Brax asked uncertainly, frowning. 

“Oh, yes. Very intelligent. And stubborn apparently,” the Doctor muttered, turning Arkytior’s head so that she was looking at him with her unsettling white-gold burning eyes. “I told you to stay in the TARDIS. Not follow.” Arkytior promptly licked him on the tip of his nose and he sighed. “Now that’s not fair.” 

“A most interesting creature,” Narvin murmured, leaning forward to inspect the wolf more closely. “I think we would find it interesting to run some tests.” Two seconds later he was squeaking as he scrambled onto Romana’s desk in an undignified manner as Arkytior snapped at him, two rows of pearly white pointed fangs grabbing onto his council robes and ripping but not sinking into flesh. Her point made, the wolf sank back down to the floor in a docile manner and rested her snout on the Doctor’s foot.

“I don’t think she likes that idea Narvin,” Romana commented amusedly as she gently pulled some papers on her desk out from underneath his person to review them. 

“But you’re sure she’s safe?” Brax fretted. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Brax. For me, leastways. Obviously not for someone threatening her.”

“Or you I should guess,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow at the wolf draped beside his younger brother’s feet. The Doctor shrugged. “How did that happen, exactly?”

“I have no idea.” 

“Why am I not surprised?”

~§§~

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years... and years into decades. The war raged on, the Doctor ran toward the next planet that needed him the moment he’d finished helping the one he was currently on. Through it all Arkytior ran by his side, matching him pace for pace, and even outdistancing him on more than one occasion when a threat crossed their path that needed to be dealt with. Whole star systems had damaged, dead Daleks in them with large bites taken effortlessly out of the polycarbide Dalekanium casing, and they were better for it. Everywhere there were tales of the Storm and the Wolf, racing through the stars and helping because they could. 

The Time War got worse. They faced Davros at the Gates of Elysium and watched as he fell into the gaping jaws of the Nightmare Child. The Doctor tried to save him, falling too, and felt strong teeth bury themselves into the collar of his jacket. The haunting whispers of a telepathic menace bashed his shields and the fierce, beautiful sound of a howling wolf drowned it out as the Nightmare Child shrieked and withdrew. 

He awoke several days later (he later found out) in his bed partially suffocating because his face was pressed into Arkytior’s golden fur with a killer headache and the vague sense that someone had violently snapped his neck backward in a whiplash motion, but otherwise he was unscathed. In entirety, he reasoned, because of the wolf pressed up close beside him and lending her body heat to his aching person. 

Instead of getting on with his day he dropped his head back onto her neck and went back to sleep, seeking comfort from his new best friend. 

~§§~

“It’s _enormous_,” the boy whispered as he stared up, awestruck, at the wolf that had just come to visit. Gallifrey wasn’t known for its pets and as such those that lived in the cities rarely ever saw wildlife at all aside from the occasional tafelshrew. The Doctor smiled as a group of children gathered round, noting the wary expressions of the parents and the curiosity of the nearby soldiers on duty as he ruffled his companion’s head fur and crouched back on his heels to be at eye level with the kids. 

“Her name is Arkytior,” he said pleasantly. “And she’s very friendly, so why don’t you go say hello?” The boy nodded, swallowing a few times as he worked up his courage, before he stepped forward and cautiously held out his hand to let her sniff it. He squeaked as instead her long pink tongue covered the majority of his face in one swipe, then flopped onto her side and rolled onto her back to expose her soft underbelly. The tension of the atmosphere released almost immediately and the Doctor felt his hearts soar when he heard the children laugh. 

~§§~

She wasn’t a companion. Nor was she a pet, either; he didn’t really know what to make of her. So he stared at her, contemplating her existence as she snored softly on her side of the bed (the closest to the door even though they were on the TARDIS, always trying to protect him even when he didn’t need it), and let his imagination run wild. 

The Doctor knew better than to think Arkytior was anything less than singularly unique, or even that she had always been a wolf. Something about the way she would respond to him, vocalizing all that she could as best as she could when she couldn’t speak... the way she was so attuned to his moods, his habits, his likes and dislikes in a general sense rather than an incarnation-specific one, that all pointed to the idea that she had known him before they’d met in his timeline. Her intelligence was stunning, on par with any other sentient being but judging by her understanding of what he said on any given basis he’d have to say it was closest to the human IQ level. And, on top of it, there was the simple fact that she was the embodiment of Time itself. 

“Of all the Time Lords in the history of the universe why did you pick me?” He murmured, bemused. Arkytior stirred but didn’t wake, soft snuffles as she sniffed him out and then squirmed restlessly until one of her massive paws was touching one of his hands. 

The Doctor found out entirely by accident that Arkytior loved tea and biscuits. It wasn’t that he’d meant to give her some, but every once in a while when he was particularly stressed and tired his brain told him he needed to fix up a second cup of tea because he had a companion on board. After a few such occasions she’d managed to train him to fix it just the way she liked (which entailed a splash of cream, not milk but cream, and some honey rather than sugar). Her favorite biscuits were chocolate-covered and soft centered with a banana cream filling, something he also found out by unintentionally figuring out her likes and dislikes. He hadn’t really had much of an opinion on bananas before, but he was beginning to see their appeal. 

So, it became a habit that when they were done rescuing somebody or delivering relief supplies or whatever it was they had done that day that he would make a pot of tea, set out two plates of biscuits, and retire to the library to read in front of the fire. He would then pour some of the tea into a large, shallow pasta bowl and mix it to Arkytior’s tastes before setting that and the second biscuit plate down beside an overtly-large and plush pillow that the TARDIS had set out for her, and they would simply enjoy each other’s company as he read. 

~§§~

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” The soldier asked. The Doctor glanced up from his task, barely giving even distracted credence to the conversation.

“I’m constantly aware of the direct correlation between the longevity of my existence and the depthless stock of my good luck,” he muttered. “To what were you referring?” 

“Your wolf. She stayed.” 

“Oh.” The Doctor sighed as he finished winding the gauze around one of Arkytior’s legs to cover the multiple abrasions she’d received and gently fondled one of her silken ears, his hearts breaking at seeing her so helpless. “Yeah, she’s incredibly loyal.”

“No,” the woman murmured. “She’s not.” Her tone of voice was indescribable and demanded he pay attention without actually asking for anything. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

“_Loyalty_ is standing _beside_ someone and supporting them against all odds. _Loving_ someone is standing _between_ them and danger without a second thought to their own person.” He swallowed as she stood and walked away back across the battlefield, tossing her parting words over her shoulder. “I’d keep that in mind.” 

The Doctor looked back down at Arkytior and sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. Zagreus had taken advantage of a tear in the fabric of reality and come forth to infect the universe in anti-time, something which was invariably fatal for Time Lords to come into contact with. Arkytior had come between him and Zagreus (who, just to be contrary and even more unsettling than usual, had taken on his appearance); she’d gotten badly hurt. It had terrified him, seeing her that way. Up until that moment he’d thought of her as indestructible, and now she wasn’t. Additionally, her devotion went beyond simple affection and he was intrigued to find that so did his. 

She was unlike anyone or anything he’d met before and increasingly he was seeing her as a person rather than an animal. Time Lord society was all about seeing past the surface to the person underneath, since everyone changed their faces on a regular basis, and the Doctor found that, because of her intelligence, he usually saw her as a person. 

This revelation led to an entire evening trying to figure out if he was in a _Beauty and the Beast _situation but if that was the case it was probably the strangest one in the history of situations. 

Either way, she was probably one of his best friends and she never actually spoke to him. Strange. 

“Maybe it’s a twist on _Princess and the Frog_,” he murmured contemplatively as he sat on the couch one evening and pretended to read _Frankenstein _by Mary Shelley. Arkytior raised her head from where it had been resting on his leg with a soft, questioning ‘boof’ and he shook himself out of that. “Nope, not going there. That’s an entirely new level of mental that I don’t even want to consider considering.” 

Arkytior let out another, slightly more insistent ‘boof’ and he ruffled her fur before going back to his book with determination to get through at least one chapter so he could truthfully say he’d made progress. 

~§§~

Time marched on. Entire planets succumbed to the war only to be brought back into existence as timelines converged and erased, and the Doctor could only stare at what had been done to the majesty of creation. 

He returned to Gallifrey at Romana’s summons and was told of what the High Council were planning. He stood by as they resurrected The Master, Rassilon, and countless others who should have passed out of memory. Listened in mounting horror as they formulated their Final Sanction. 

_No More. _

~§§~

The barn was empty save for his TARDIS and Arkytior, prowling about his legs. The Doctor turned at a scuffling sound and froze when a glowing woman rose out of the Moment, hair platinum with white light and eyes glowing golden. She was wearing a bright hot pink hoodie, her jeans worn, her white chucks tired and scuffed. A burning TARDIS key hung from her neck and raw time emanated from her person. 

The Doctor let out a gasp and stumbled backward until he hit the dilapidated wooden wall, instinctively cowering before the entity as it stepped away from the box.

“What are you?” He whispered. 

The ethereal quality faded, a human girl of perhaps twenty years with dark brown eyes taking the goddess’ place.

“Just a Wolf,” she answered back. Her accent was common, London. But it was warm and comforting, and he could only stare as Arkytior padded up to the woman and touched her nose to the girl’s hand. Golden energy engulfed the two as they merged into one, the girl remaining but Arkytior’s eyes shining through. “A wolf who saw all of time and space and sent herself to protect you. Are you afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf, Doctor?”

“Once,” he choked. “I’ve learned better since then.” The smile he received for his answer was tongue-touched, flirty but genuine and friendly, and despite the situation he found himself smiling back. “I learned to see beyond exterior appearance. I see you in her, her in you.” 

“We’re one and the same,” Arkytior agreed. “I have always been, just as she has always been. Together we are complete.” Her expression turned sad as she looked to the box. “You know what you have to do, child of Gallifrey?”

“Yes.” 

“You’ll count them,” she said. His brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Count who?”

“How many children were on Gallifrey today.” The Doctor’s breath caught as tears pricked at his eyes, and he lowered his gaze to the sandy ground. Delicate fingers pressed on the underside of his chin to make him look back up, and he found himself staring into deep whiskey pools. “And then, one day, you’ll understand that you’ve been getting it wrong. The wrong numbers.”

“Which numbers should I be considering, then?”

“How many children you _saved_.”

“How is it that you know me better than I know myself?” He whispered. Arkytior smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before backing away. 

“Because we’re bound together, you and I. Not telepathically, but by the paths we have chosen to walk. Every action brings us back to here, circling one another as light and dark, as the loop revolves for eternity in endless causality. I know you, because I know myself.” 

The box began to whir as the Moment counted down to completion, and hastily the Doctor moved to step into his TARDIS. He paused in the doorway and held his hand out as a wind rose in the barn.

“Come with me,” he begged. Arkytior shook her head. 

“I’m not actually here, Doctor.” She raised her voice to be heard over the cyclone. “Find me, Doctor! Find me!” 

“I will! I promise!” 

The TARDIS doors slammed shut as she took off in self-preservation, the explosion that would destroy his home planet and the Dalek fleet surrounding it sending them hurtling into oblivion. Fire flared through the console room as heavy metal beams fell, and the Doctor cried out as he was pinned under one of them.

...

He would later awake, a new man in an unfamiliar TARDIS desktop, with no memory of the girl or the wolf but with a general sense of her personality and how much she meant to him.

~§§~

_A girl stands, backed against a wall in the basement of a department store._

_He takes her hand, and a spark of subconscious recognition passes between them._

_Run._

**Author's Note:**

> A picture of a smiling wolf.  
https://www.google.com/search?q=smiling+wolf&safe=strict&rlz=1C9BKJA_enUS814US815&hl=en-US&prmd=isnv&sxsrf=ACYBGNSNoaTqFQMHko1V_rQWYAZApcyl8g:1570420607068&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi3oLrToInlAhVJPK0KHZifBcAQ_AUIFigB&biw=768&bih=915#imgrc=0fLi82QJoyz1JM
> 
> Link to the song for this oneshot, which is ‘Endlessly’ by The Cab:  
https://youtu.be/fWWSo_kdaZ0

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Something of the Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147086) by [Aelwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn)


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